JLUniversity
by The Writer0214
Summary: Welcome to Siegel University! "Shaping Tomorrow's Heroes Today!" This is a story about our favorite heroes (and their nemeses) as college students. I've always wanted to do this sort of thing. I was inspired by Yale Stewart's webcomic JL8, where the Justice League are 8-year-olds and they're friends. I wanted to try something like that but I set it in college, not elementary.
1. Getting Settled In

**Disclaimer:** Superman and all other related characters are property of Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster and DC Comics.

**Author's Notes:** I've been wanting to do something like this for a long time now. The Justice League as college students. I was inspired by Yale Stewart's JL8 webcomic (they're the Justice League as 8-year-olds) and I wanted to make one of my own (but I thought I'd start with a fanfic), setting it instead in college. There will be drama, comedy, laughter, tears, love triangles, best friends turning on each other and patching up, and the pressures of a college student. There will be the occasional "saving the day", and also midnight Denny's and Starbucks runs.

Siegel University, Boston...

Time seemed to stop as a long black limousine pulled into the school's parking lot. He was the richest guy anyone in the school had ever laid eyes on. Everyone stared.

"Who is that?" an awed Barry Allen whispered to a new arrival standing next to him.

"I dunno," Clark whispered back. "Ma says it's not polite to stare."

"You always do what your mother tells you?" Barry asked.

"Pretty much. I was raised that way," Clark answered. Barry nodded.

"Name's Barry, by the way," Barry said, extending a hand to his fellow freshman. "Barry Allen."

"Clark Kent," Clark said, taking it to shake.

"You know what major you are yet?"

"Journalism. Got my sights set on it. News is important to the world."

"All of that is just BS. Look at Faux News."

"Not all news is like Fox News. If I recall correctly, my dad said journalists aren't supposed to be biased and lean toward one side or the other—which Fox does. I'd choose carefully what I watch and listen to if I were you."

Barry was about to make a reply when Clark shushed him.

He suddenly knew whose limousine that was. Knew who the young man dressed all in black and wearing a long black trench coat was.

* * *

"Shall I carry your luggage to your dormitory, Master Bruce?" Alfred Pennyworth said as he took Bruce's bags out of the trunk. He was getting emotional. Not only was Bruce his master; he was also like a son to him. And he was beaming with pride as Bruce set foot on Siegel University.

"I'll take it from here, Alfred," Bruce said, gathering his belongings.

"Alright, sir," Alfred said, nodding. "You take very good care of yourself here, Master Bruce."

Bruce merely nodded.

"You are as precious to me—" Alfred began to say, but Bruce cut him off.

"I know, Alfred. I'll call when I'm settled in."

Alfred nodded.

"Goodbye, Master Bruce."

"Goodbye, Alfred."

* * *

_Shall I carry your luggage to your dormitory, Master Bruce?_ That voice sounded familiar to Clark. And the name "Master Bruce."

"I know who he is," Clark said to Barry.

"Who?" Barry asked, turning.

"His name's Bruce Wayne."  
"Wayne. As in _Wayne Industries_?"

"Mm-hm. One and the same."

"Son of a biscuit!" Barry exclaimed. "Bruce Wayne? Here? At Siegel University? This great!"

"Sure is," Clark said, nodding. "He and I go a long way back."

"Really?"

"Yep. He's a great guy. Don't let his cold exterior fool you. His heart's in the right place, deep down inside. He's a good friend. Take my word for it."

"Alrighty then."

"Hey, I gotta run to the administration building to see where my dorm is," Clark said.

"Iwasactuallyheadedtheremyself," Barry said, a smile playing on his lips and a twinkle in his eye. "Raceyouthere?"

Before Clark could say a word, Barry was gone, leaving a trail of dust and leaves behind him.

* * *

"Excuse me," Bruce asked, startling one of the groundskeepers in front of him. "Do you know where Felton Hall is?"

"Right this way," the startled man said after recovering. "Follow me."

"Thank you," Bruce said, following his lead.

They walked past Ballard Hall, past Hereford Hall, a building that looked more like an apartment than a dormitory, until they reached Felton Hall, Bruce's assigned dormitory. He read the list posted on the building's double doors.

_Lower East Wing. Room 204. Wayne, B. Kent, C._

"Oh, great," Bruce mumbled. But deep down, he was glad his old friend was going to be his roommate. He pushed the door open and made his way to his wing. Looking around, he spotted Room 204. He tried the door. It was unlocked. After setting his bags down on the floor, he went over to his desk. On it was the lounge key (in case he came back late and the main entrance was already locked) and his room key taped to a piece of paper they had to sign, containing a list of appliances and furniture. They were to check each one off if it worked. Then they were to sign it and give it to the resident assistant. Bruce checked everything off without reading the whole thing and signed it.

"Done."

* * *

"What took you so long?" Barry said, leaning against a post, arms folded across his chest. He had a grin of satisfaction on his face.

"I, uh," Clark said, fumbling for an excuse. "I, uh... I was helping someone out."

"Admit it," Barry said. "I'm just faster than you."

Clark shrugged. "If you say so."

"You found your dorm yet?" Barry asked.

"Not yet," Clark said, heading over to the Admissions counter.

"Excuse me," Clark said, clearing his throat. "Do you know which dorm I'm assigned? The names Clark. Clark Kent?"

"Kent," the woman at the counter said. "Yes! Felton Hall. Your room number is 204 and your keys will be on your desk."

Clark thanked her and exited the building, proceeding to look for Felton Hall. He heard a swooshing sound and was surprised to see Barry beside him.

"Sowhat'syourdorm? What'syourdorm? What'syourdorm?" he asked, speaking fast. Clark must have extreme patience. Most people would have been annoyed.

"I'll be living in...Felton Hall."

"Sweet!" Barry said. "That's my dorm too! What wing're you gonna be on?"

"I don't know yet. I guess I'll know when I get there. All I have is the room number. Now... Let's see..."

Clark bent over to study a map of the campus—one of the maps scattered all over the place to help students navigate their way around.

"That'sjustupthestairspasttheotherdormandthenanoth erandthenFeltonHall!" Barry said, speeding up. He was getting excited. He was like a kid on sugar rush times one hundred.

"Right," Clark said, nodding. "Let's go."

"Race you there?"

"Not so fast," Clark said, trying to catch his new friend. No such luck.

"Slow day?" Barry teased.

"Not everything's a race, Barry," Clark reminded him.

"That's what all the slow kids say. Let's go find our rooms."

"204, East Wing," Clark mumbled.

"Apparently, I'm just four doors down from you. Room 200. Lower West Wing."

"Awesome," Clark said with a smile. It was genuine. He really did like Barry. "I'll see you at the welcome dinner?"

"Sure," Barry said, chuckling. "Race you there?"

"Not tonight."

"Ooh," Barry said. "I wonder what my roommate's going to be like... He's got a pretty cool sounding name... Hal Jordan."

* * *

"Diana, right? Diana Prince?" Paige Douglas, the RA of Fanning Hall's Upper East wing said, welcoming the newcomer. "This way. I'll show you your room."

"Thank you," Diana said.

She led Diana to the east wing, down the corridor, until they reached Room 107.

"This is your room, Room 107. And this is your roommate, Karen. Karen, this is Diana."

"Hi," Karen said, extending a hand to Diana to shake. "Name's Karen Starr."

"Diana. Diana Prince."

* * *

"Barry Allen?" a voice called just as Barry was about to enter the room with his and his roommate's name on it. He turned around to see who it was.

"Name's Brock Ledger," Lower West's RA said, introducing himself. "And you're...Hal Jordan, right?"

Hal nodded.

"Look, guys... I'm sorry about the confusion, but... It seems you two have been moved."

"Moved!? What the f— Son of a biscuit!" Barry said. "Where?"

"Looks like you'll be living in Hereford Hall."

"That ugly building next to this one? Ugh!"

"Hey," Brock said. "I wouldn't call Hereford Hall ugly. Alright? Think about it this way. This is a dorm. Hereford Hall is more of a...an apartment! Here, you have restrictions on what size your plasma TV can be. There's no such rule in Hereford. You can have a microwave in your room, unlike here, where you can't and the only way you can heat your food up is outside in the hallway."

"Sweet," Hal said. "We'll take it!"

"What?" Barry said, incredulous. "Have you gone mental?"

"Just think about it," Hal said. "All the amenities! Our own personal microwave in the room? No size restrictions for flatscreen TVs?"

Barry thought about it.

"Do we get to have game consoles in the room?"

"Heck yeah," Brock assured them.

"Sweet!" Barry said, fist in the air.

"And it's a six-person dorm—or apartment, I should say," Brock said.

"Six?" Hal asked, not sure if he heard the guy right.

"That's absurd! If there's gonna be too much people—" Barry began to protest.

"Hey, it works for some, it doesn't work for others," Brock said. "Besides, it's a six-person room but it'll only be three of you in it room. The two of you and another guy."

"So, how does it work?" Hal asked. "Do we all share one big room?"

"There are two rooms—one big, one small. Two people can sleep in the smaller room and then four in the big room. Two plus four equals six."

"Gotcha," Barry said. "So with only three people, that means we get plenty of space!"

* * *

Dunster Hall...

Oliver Queen navigated his way through the labyrinth of Dunster Hall, searching for Room 221. Finding it, he peeked in. His roommate was already settled. A young man in an orange Hawaiian shirt and green shorts. From his choice of room decoration and from the surfboard leaning against the wall, Oliver guessed that he must be a surfer. It seemed he was also very nautically-minded. His board was decorated with a golden trident and his posters depicted sea life.

"Hi there!" Oliver's roommate greeted him. "Name's Arthur Curry. You must be Oliver."

"Yep," Oliver said, nodding. "That's right. You a surfer?"

"Oh, yeah," Arthur said. "Love it out there. I feel like it's my home. I noticed you have a compound bow. You an archer?"

"Uh-huh. I just checked out the programs here," Oliver said. "I found out they have an archery team."

* * *

Hereford Hall, Upper Back...

"Here we are! Room 18. This place seems legit enough," Barry said, nodding. Hal looked at the names written on the board in front of the door.

"Hal Jordan, Barry Allen..."  
"What?" Barry asked, curious.

"Must be a typo," Hal said.

"J—" Barry tried to read. "J...John...Jones? Obviously a horrible typo. I mean, why would they spell 'John' with an apostrophe and two n's? And why would they spell 'Jones' with an apostrophe, two n's, and a z? That can't be right."

Hal tapped Barry on the shoulder and pointed. Someone was headed their way.

"Must be our roommate?" Hal whispered. "Looks too schnazzy. I mean, who wears suits? They're uncomfortable."

"Hi," Barry and Hal's new roommate said, stopping in front of them. "I'm J'onn."

* * *

Felton Hall...

"Bruce!" Clark said with a laugh, happy to see his long-time friend. Even despite their differences in ideas, morals (Bruce believed revenge was a form of justice while Clark didn't), and tastes, he considered Bruce his best friend.

"Hey, Clark," Bruce said, looking up, acknowledging his presence. He extended a hand to Clark and Clark clasped his arm in a Roman handshake. Bruce never liked hugs.

"It's good to see you, Bruce."

"Yeah. Good to see you too."


	2. First Day Blues

Monday... First day of classes...

"Hey, Clark!" a familiar voice called as Bruce and Clark made their way to the science and math department for their Astronomy class. Barry. Clark turned around.

"Oh, hey, Barry!" Clark greeted. "What's up? Where are you headed?"

"I dunno. Some place called the 'Racism Building.'" Barry responded. "Weird name to name a place, if you ask me."

"That's great! I'm headed that way. It's actually RCSM, so I've heard. The Rutherford Center for Science and Mathematics. So some students call it Racism."

"That makes sense. You have a class there?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I have Astronomy."

"Awesome! We're probably in the same class!"

"We might be. Are you headed to RCSM 200?"

"That's _exactly_ where I'm going!" Barry said. "Race you there?"

And before Clark could answer, he was gone.

"That was Barry," Clark explained to Bruce. "He's a freshman like us."

"He sounds like a dork to me," Bruce said in reply. Knowing his best friend, Clark just let it slide. That was Bruce—and Bruce _was_ Bruce.

Tempting though it was, Clark resisted the urge to super-speed like Barry. He wanted to walk. To enjoy a short stroll before class. This wasn't high school where there was a bell and you had to hurry. Of course it is advisable to come to class on time, early even, but there was no need to rush. There was time enough.

Bruce and Clark climbed the stairs to the second floor of the science and math department. Upon reaching the second floor, they searched for room 200. They entered. Only two students were there so far. Barry and a girl with long black hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a red tube top with a metallic gold "W" design on it, a navy blue star-spangled skirt, red boots, and a blue jacket. Both boys took their seats on either side of her; Clark on her left, Bruce on her right.

"I'm Bruce. And you are?" Bruce said, introducing himself with a charm Clark had seen before. There were two sides to Bruce—one cold, dark, and brooding, the other charming, just like a prince in a book. He shows his charming side when he wants to win a lady's heart.

"I'm Diana," Diana replied. "Diana Prince."

"I'm Clark," Clark said, his turn to introduce himself.

"It's nice to meet you."

Diana meant every word. It was nice to have met Bruce and Clark. It was just awkward as she was not used to it. She was raised around women. She hadn't met any man before.

"What's your major?" Clark asked.

"I'm looking into premed," Diana said. "I've been thinking about being in the medical field and at the same time using my medical knowledge in the army."

"Army nurse, huh?" Bruce interrupted. "That's a really good choice. Can't go wrong with that."

Diana nodded. "How about you, Bruce? What are you studying?"

"I inherited my parents company, _Wayne Enterprises_," Bruce said. "I have to know how to run a business. So I'm taking business, with a minor in economy. And I'm thinking of double-majoring. Maybe a major in the sciences like chemistry."

"I thought it was called _Wayne Industries_," Barry interrupted, to Bruce's irritation.

"It's a common misconception," Bruce said coldly.

"Alrighty then," Barry said, nodding. Then, whispering to Clark, he said, "Is he always like that?"

"I heard that."

A moment later, the door on the right side of the classroom opened and in stepped the professor. By now, the classroom had filled. From behind, Barry whispered to Clark. "He looks like an older version of Nigel Thornberry from _The Wild Thornberries_."

Bruce gave Barry a sharp look that meant "Shut your mouth or I kill you." Barry didn't know how to take a clue.

"Good afternoon, class," the professor began. "My name is David Dimmesdale, and I will be your teacher for Astronomy. Now I hope you all enjoy this class as much as I enjoy teaching it."

"He even sounds like Nigel Thornberry," Barry whispered again. Howls of laughter came from the third tier of the auditorium-style classroom. It was where Hal Jordan and Oliver Queen were seated. Mr. Dimmesdale stopped for a moment.

"Is there anything funny you'd like to share with us, Mr... Jordan?" he said, looking at the attendance sheet with his students' pictures in his hand. "Mr. Queen? Care to enlighten us?"

They kept laughing like a pack of hyenas.

"Look what you did," Clark whispered, spinning around in his chair to face Barry.

"Sorry," Barry whispered back.

"Perhaps we should put these two in straitjackets," Mr. Dimmesdale joked. "Laughing like lunatics for no good reason? Sounds like grounds for being committed to me."

At that point, the whole class burst into laughter—except for Bruce, Clark, and Diana.

Finally, the laughter died down and Hal and Oliver became more serious.

"Sorry, sir," Oliver said.

"No harm done," Mr. Dimmesdale said. "You gave us something to laugh about. Now, on with the class. First, I'll introduce myself, then we'll go around the room and you introduce yourselves. Who you are, what your major is, what your hobbies are... As I've said earlier, my name is David Dimmesdale. I'm an astronomer. I used to work with NASA. Astronomy is both my life and my hobby. I keep a telescope in my backyard for that reason. I just love looking at the stars at night. I'm from here—Bostonian for life. Another hobby of mine besides stargazing and planet-finding is fishing."

David Dimmesdale picked up his attendance sheet and read it silently.

"Why don't we start with...Mr. Kent over here? Mr. Kent?"

Clark stood up. "My name is Clark Kent; I'm a journalism major. I'm from a small town called Smallville in Kansas. I'm an avid bookworm. It's what I do in my spare time."

"Very good, Mr. Kent."

Diana was next.

"I'm Diana Prince. I've spent most of my life in Greece with my mother, and now I'm here. I'm a premed major. I figured I'd be a nurse and use what I've learned in the army. Oh, and I love sports—anything active."

"My name is Bruce Wayne," Bruce said. "I'm from Gotham City. I inherited the family business when my parents died so I thought it would be fitting to study business."

They went all around the room, students introducing themselves. When they were done, Mr. Dimmesdale spoke.

"We'll begin this semester's course with the great men who have shaped astronomy," Mr. Dimmesdale began.

"Men," Diana scoffed, whispering to Clark. "Why not the women?"

"Were you saying something Miss Prince?" Mr. Dimmesdale said.

"No sir," Diana answered, shaking her head.

"Well then! On with the lesson. Now... Nicolaus Copernicus... Who can tell me about our friend Copernicus and his contributions to astronomy?"

Clark raised his hand.

"Mr. Kent?"

"He proposed that the sun was at the center of our galaxy, as opposed to the more popular Ptolemaic Model, which placed Earth and not the sun at the center."

"Good answer, Mr. Kent. Thank you, you may be seated."

* * *

Lunch...

"Dammit," Hal said as he sat down at the table, tray in hand. "Why did you have to get us into trouble with your antics, Barry?"

"Hey, it was your choice to laugh or not. I was just making a comment," Barry said with a shrug.

"Thank God Mr. Dimmesdale is an easy prof," Hal said. "I thought he was going to go ballistic there."

"Now we know he loves a good joke now and then," Clark said, approaching the table. "Mind if we join you guys?"

"No, not at all," Hal said. "Name's Hal Jordan."

"Clark. Clark Kent," Clark said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

"Where's your friend?" Diana asked, referring to Oliver.

"Oh! Oliver?" Hal said. "He's sitting over there with his roommate and one other girl."

"Her name's Dinah Lance, I think," Clark said. "I met her at the Welcome Dinner our first night on campus."

"Is that his girlfriend?" Bruce asked.

"She will be, pretty soon," Barry said.

"Yep," the group said collectively, nodding.

"By the way," Barry said. "Are you guys thinking of joining any of the clubs on campus? I've noticed they set up tables all over the place."

"I'm thinking of writing for the _Siegel Gazette_ and joining the Methodist Bible study on campus," Clark said.

"I'm joining the _Green Lantern Society_ on campus," Hal said. "They have cool-looking shirts for their members. And they wear this totally awesome ring! I'm curious to know what this group is about. How 'bout you, Diana?"

"I'm checking out the _Siegel Gazette_ with Clark," Diana said, prompting a raised eyebrow from Bruce who seemed jealous at the thought of the two working together.

"Bruce?" Hal asked.

"Sorry. I don't join clubs. I go solo."

"Oh, come on! There are lots of great clubs on c—"

"Don't push it, kid."

"Alright! Alright! Just a suggestion. I'm shutting up now."

"So," Barry said, changing the topic. "What do your schedules look like for the rest of the day?"

"Well," Clark said. "I have Beginning Algebra with Bruce after lunch, 1:30. I have a little break, then Introduction to Greek Culture from 3:45 to 5:00."

"I have the same class," Diana said, irking Bruce more.

"You're _from Greece_," Bruce said. "Why take the class?"

"_Excuse me?_" Diana said, half laughing. "I'm proud of my culture—they're my people!"

Everyone in the cafeteria froze and looked up. The silence was so thick you could hear a pin drop.

"What are you all looking at?" Diana said menacingly. With that, everyone resumed their business. Clearly, no one dared cross her.

"She must be an Amazon from long ago," Barry whispered to Hal, who nodded. "I wouldn't want to piss her off."

"Where's Bruce?" Hal said suddenly. Everyone looked to find an empty chair beside Clark's, no sign of Bruce anywhere. His tray, however, was still there. His food was only half finished. Clark face-palmed and shook his head.

"I apologize on behalf of Bruce. He does that a lot."

* * *

"Hey! Dinah! Wait up," Oliver called, running up to Dinah. "Do you have plans for this Saturday?"

"Not really, no," Dinah replied. "Why'd you ask?"

"My roommate and I were thinking of going to the beach. Surf... Just chill... Maybe swim... Then later we might go bowling."

"The beach isn't really my thing," Dinah said. "Sorry, Ollie. Maybe another time?"

"It's fine. Maybe you could join us later for bowling."

"Maybe. But I can't make any promises."

"That's cool."

"Whoa! Is it just me or did you just get your ass rejected?" Arthur said, humor in his voice. He found the proceeding funny.

"Shut up," Oliver said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to the room to grab my bow. I have to be down at Jack Rutherford Field by one."

"First archery session, huh?"

Oliver didn't reply.

"Cold."

* * *

Clark entered the classroom, looking for Bruce. He knew his friend would be there. He wouldn't dare miss the first day of class, even in a foul mood. _Siegel University_ had a first-day policy. Miss the first day and you're automatically dropped. So no matter what mood Bruce was in, he had to come to class. Looking around, Clark finally saw Bruce. He was at the very top, the very last tier. Clark went up to him and sat down beside him.

"Hey, what was that all about?" Clark asked.

Silence. It was as if Clark hadn't even said a thing. As if he weren't there. Bruce just refused to acknowledge his presence. Clark shrugged. Soon, students came through the door, filling the classroom. One of those students was a blond girl whose hair was cut in a bob. She was wearing a white long-sleeved turtleneck with a hole in the chest, providing everyone a view of her cleavage. She had on a white miniskirt and blue boots.

"I wonder who she is," Bruce said, turning to Clark, momentarily forgetting that he was mad at him. Then he scowled and turned away again, remembering their spat.

Presently, Mrs. Dimmesdale, Professor Dimmesdale's wife, entered the room.

"Good afternoon, and welcome to Beginning Algebra..."

* * *

3:45...

"Did you ask Bruce what was wrong?" Diana said, as Clark signed his name on the attendance sheet. She was right next to him. So close he could smell her. She smelled like berries. Wild, natural berries. She was driving him nuts. He wanted to tell her just how beautiful she was and how good she smelled. Suddenly, it dawned on him...

"Clark? Hello? Clark!" Diana said, reminding Clark of her presence.

"Hm? Huh? What?"

"I said," Diana repeated, "Did you ask Bruce what that was all about?"

"No, not yet," Clark said, shaking his head. "Haven't had a chance to talk to him yet. But I do have a suspicion."

"What is it?" Diana pressed.

"It's between him and me."

Diana nodded.

"Alright. Let me know when you've talked to him."

"I will," Clark said, nodding.

* * *

Herbert Felton Hall...

Clark knocked on the door of their room then used x-ray vision to double check if Bruce was there. He was, alright. He lay on his back on the bed, reading a book. Clark pushed the door open and stepped in. After dropping his bag on the floor, he sat down on his own bed and sighed.

"Alright, Bruce," he said. "I know you. What's this really about?"

"Get out!" Bruce said, hurling his book at Clark. Clark, with inhuman speed, caught the book just in time.

* * *

Micah Hereford Hall...

"Dinner sure was good," Hal said as he, J'onn, and Barry came through the door.

"I concur," Barry said. "Now time for some _C.O.D._"

"Oh, yeah," Hal nodded. "You know, I'm really glad they reassigned us to Hereford Hall. I like this place."

As was explained to them, Hereford Hall was more of an apartment than a dormitory. So students could arrange things the way they wanted it, unlike the other dorms where the beds, desks, cabinets, and closets were fixed and unmovable. The three friends had discussed how they would arrange things in their little apartment of sorts. Barry drew up the plan. Since they were on the second floor, the ceiling of their room sloped upward, following the contour of the roof, making it easy for them to stack three bunk beds together. J'onn's at the top, Barry's in the middle, and Hal's on the bottom. The other bunk beds were in the smaller room in case anyone from their circle wanted to spend the night. _Siegel University_ allowed their students to sleep in someone else's dorm room on the weekends.

The sleeping area in the bigger room was turned into a little man cave. It was complete with a couch, an XBOX, 24 inch flatscreen TV, surround sound speakers, a shelf full of games and movies, and a stereo system with subwoofers for playing music. The living area was turned into the sleeping area, where the three beds were stacked, one on top of each other. Near the door was Barry's desk. On the right side of the room were Hal's and J'onn's desks. On the wall, above J'onn's desk, there was a picture of Mars. In the center of the room, between the stacked bunk beds and Hal and J'onn's desks, was a foosball table. It felt like home away from home. All three roommates were pleased with how it all turned out.

Barry nodded.

"I like this place, too," he said. "Home sweet home, Hal."

"By the way," Hal said. "Oliver said he was inviting us to the beach this Saturday. Then bowling after that. Maybe some laser tag."

"Who's going?"

"Him, his roommate Arthur, me, you, Clark, J'onn... That is if you guys want to."

"What's the beach?" J'onn asked.

"It's the best thing that ever happened to you," Hal said. "You don't wanna miss out."

"Yeah," Barry said. "You might wanna replace that suit with beachwear, though. We should go shopping tomorrow."

"On second thought, people might panic when they see a green kid on the beach," Hal said.

"How's this?" J'onn asked, transforming into a normal-looking human.

Both friends were speechless. Hal gave him a thumbs up.

* * *

Jane Fanning Hall...

"How was class?" Karen asked her roommate as they lay in their beds, looking up at the ceiling.

"Class was okay, I guess," Diana answered. "I don't know about the rest of my day."

"Why? What happened?"

"It's... It was just weird..."

"What's weird?"

"This guy I met in Astronomy class... I don't get him..."

"Ooh," Karen teased. Diana shut her up with a look. "Sorry."

"Anyway, he's... He's acting weird. One minute he's charming and walking on sunshine, the next he's as dark and gloomy as Hades."

"I think I might know this guy," Karen said. "He's my cousin's roommate."

"Your cousin?"

"Yeah, my cousin," Karen said, nodding. "Clark."

"Clark's your cousin?" Diana asked, surprised to find out.

"Mm-hm."

"So... You know this guy?"

"I've seen him a couple of times," Karen said. "Word of warning: his light, cheery—I guess you can say charming—personality is just a ploy to lure in the ladies."

"So... You're saying...?"

"Yes, that's just what I'm saying."

"Great Hera!" Diana said, squeezing her eyes shut and massaging her temples. "He likes me?"

"Bingo!"

"What do I do, Karen?"

"Whatever happens, play hard-to-get. Make him think you don't like him back."

"_I DON'T!_" Diana practically screamed.

"Oh," Karen said. "Well then."

* * *

"Can you get the door?" Barry asked, pausing the game.

"I can," Hal said, smiling.

"You know what I mean! Sheesh! _Will you_ get the door?"

"That's more like it," Hal said, aiming his ring at the door. Out of the ring came a green transparent glowing hand. This he used to open the door.

"Clark!" Hal said, "Come in, don't be shy! This is our roommate J'onn. J'onn, this is Clark."

"Pleased to meet you," Clark said, shaking J'onn's hand.

"Likewise."

"So?" Barry said. "Whatcanwedoforya? Soda? Chips? Anything?"

"Oh, no. No thanks," Clark said, shaking his head. "Do you guys mind if I stay the night here?"

"Uh..." Hal said.

"You might wanna check the student handbook," Barry said. "I'm pretty sure it says there you can only sleep in someone else's room on the weekends. And if I'm not mistaken, it's Monday night."

"I know," Clark said, nodding. "I can't stand my roommate right now, though. Promise—I'll keep a low profile."

"What's this all about?" Hal asked.

"Well..." Clark said, then stopped.

"Yes?" Barry said.

"I don't want to gossip."

"It will stay only in this room," Hal assured Clark.

"What'ssaidinRoomTwentydoesn'tleaveRoomTwenty," Barry said, speeding up.

"Alright," Clark said, sighing. "Bruce thinks I'm in love with Diana—I'm not. And he's jealous."

The two friends burst into laughter.

"Sorry. Wedidn'tmeantolaugh. It's just... It'ssotrivialandpettyit'sridiculouslyfunny," Barry explained.

"No worries," Clark said.

"Alright," Hal said. "You can sleep here until things are fixed between the two of you."

"Thank you."

"Anytime."


	3. Tragedy Strikes

"Well," Hal said, as he sat down with the others on the picnic blanket Diana had spread on the sand. "This first week has been easy."

"Now it is," Barry said. "Wait till we get to the second week."

"That's how it always is," Oliver said. "They go easy on you during the first week of school."  
"Then they pile on the homework," Clark said, smiling.

"Yep," Oliver said, nodding.

"So," Arthur said, "Your friend still not talking to you?"

"Unfortunately, no," Clark said, sighing. "And he's been hostile to me."

Oliver whistled through his teeth.

"Woo, boy!" he said. "Drama and schoolwork? That's one big recipe for disaster."

"Relax, Clark," Hal said. "Forget what Oliver says. Watch—you'll be so busy with school you won't have time for drama. Or time to think about drama."

"I hope you're right," Clark said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

"Do you really always do that?" Barry asked.

"Do what?" Clark replied.

"Push your glasses up your nose?"

"Oh, that!" Clark said, nodding. "I don't even realize I do that sometimes. I guess it's a habit. Like you, talking fast."

"This is true," Barry said, nodding.

"You think I should have tagged along?" Diana suddenly said. "I think this is a bad idea. It'll give Bruce more reason to—"

"Look," Oliver said. "You and Clark aren't dating—as far as we know. You're just good friends. He's being silly and unreasonable. There's no reason for him to be jealous."

"Yeah," Hal said. "Besides, if you went with just Clark, that'd give him reason to think you two are together. But you're with us, too. If he's jealous of Clark, let him be jealous of us."

The others nodded their assent and Diana and Clark exchanged a look that said, "I hope they're right."

"Come on," Barry said. "Let's just enjoy our little break while we can. This won't ever happen again in a long time."

"Yeah," Hal said. "Pretty soon, we'll all be locked up in our little rooms, burning the midnight oil."

"Or stuck in the library until closing," Clark said, laughing. The others laughed with him.

"That would be a dreadful experience," Barry said. "Libraries scare me—at night at least, anyway. I wouldn't want to be stuck in there until closing."

"I think they let you know when it's closing, though," Oliver said. "They don't just turn off the lights."

"Yeah, the librarians still have to arrange the books, put them back on the shelves," Hal said.

"While you guys sit and laugh," Arthur said, rising, "I'm going to ride the waves."

"Alright. Good luck," Clark said, smiling.

"Thanks," Arthur said. "But I don't need it. The water is my home."

* * *

A crowd gathered in front of Felton Hall, exchanging looks and whispers. The statue of Herbert Felton, professor emeritus, for which Felton Hall was named, had been horribly vandalized. Its face was painted white with red lips. The statue's hair was painted green. The suit, too, was painted: green shirt, purple tie, jacket, and slacks.

"Who would do something like this?" a student asked.

"It's probably the guys from Ballard Hall," an upperclassman suggested. "I've been here long enough to know a prank war when I see one."

"That's too much for a prank war," another student said. "That's already defacing school property."

"Look at that!" another student pointed out. "Over there!"

Not only had the late professor's statue been vandalized; the steps that led up to Felton and Hereford were also vandalized, painted in an alternating pattern of purple and green. At the bottom of the stone staircase, they found a card lying face down.

"Why so serious?" Karen read, picking it up.

"Turn it over," Dinah Lance suggested.

Turning it over, they saw that the card was a joker.

"Somebody call campus police," one of the groundskeepers said.

"I'm on it," a student volunteered, running down to the security office.

A minute later, two uniformed security employees rolled up the hill in their golf cart.

"What's going on here?" the driver of the golf cart asked, getting off. He was a senior at Siegel University, on his way to completing his Bachelor of Science in Criminology. At the same time, he was working with campus security, receiving salary, like a paid staff. His nameplate read _Gordon, J_.

"Someone vandalized Dr. Felton's statue and painted the steps purple and green," a professor said.

"Go," Gordon said to his colleague. "Search the area. See if you can find anything. Spray paint cans, anything."

"Gotcha."

After asking some questions, Gordon dismissed the crowd.

"Wow," Dinah said. "Someone has an unhealthy obsession with clowns."

The crowd of students, professors, and groundskeepers had already dispersed and Dinah was on her way to the cafeteria to study. Karen was heading the same way.

"Disturbing, isn't it?" Karen said. "Whoever did that needs to get checked in the head."

"I couldn't have said it any better myself," Dinah said. "By the way, you're Karen, right?"

"Yep, that's me," Karen said. "How do you—?"

"I've seen you around. And we're in World History 1 together," Dinah said. "Tuesday, Thursday? From 11:10 to 12:35?"

"Oh, that's right!" Karen said, recognizing her fellow student. "No wonder you look familiar. And I've seen you sit at the same table with that Queen guy and his roommate."

"Oliver and Arthur, yeah," Dinah said, nodding.

"Are you dating Oliver?" Karen asked. "Just curious."

"_Oliver?_ Heck no!" Dinah protested. "Never in a million years! He's not even my type."

"Why not? He looks hot."

Dinah raised an eyebrow.

"To you, maybe. Not to me. I just... I don't like him."

"At least he's not creepy like that Bruce Wayne guy," Karen said, laughing.

"True that," Dinah said, smiling. "Why don't you date Ollie?"

"Nah," Karen said. "Dorky is more my type. Like Clark."

"He _is_ kinda cute," Dinah said. "Why don't you go for it?"

"He's my cousin, though."

"So? Cousin marriages are allowed in some states."

* * *

"When did we first arrive in school?" Clark asked. "When was the welcome dinner?"

"That was... Thursday, I think," Hal said. "Why?"

"No, it was Wednesday," Barry said.

"And then we had orientation week, where we got to know each other," Oliver said.

"I can't believe we've known each for over a week now," Hal said. "This is so cool. I really feel like we have a group here—a place everyone belongs to."

"Some of us met in class, though," Diana said. "Like Clark and I. And Bruce. But yes, I agree. It was great to have met you guys."

Clark's eyes felt hot at the mention of Bruce's name. He had to close them fast or he'd burn the food and and blanket they were sitting on. There was a pang of jealous there.

_No_, Clark denied. _No, there's nothing there. They're just friends; you and Diana are just friends as well. Get over it._

"Actually, I saw you during orientation week," Clark said to Diana. "I just didn't have the courage to go up to you and introduce myself. It wasn't until the first day of classes, when all the orientation was done that I got to know you."

"Yeah, I remember seeing you and Bruce at the first volleyball game of the year. And the other events that week as well."

"Boy, that thing was _crazy_!" Hal said. "Everyone was cheering."

"My ears are still ringing from all that cheering," Diana said, laughing.

"The head coach and assistant coach from Shiloh College said they'd never seen anything like it before," Barry said. "The support, the school spirit, everyone cheering as loudly as they can."

"Orientation week was busy," Oliver said. "Busy, but fun. Next week's just going to be busy. Period."

"We can always make it fun," Hal said. "A movie night with the guys every now and then... Denny's... Jack-In-The-Box... We could order pizza... Starbucks..."

"We could go to Wal-Mart," Barry suggested. "Shop around, buy stuff."

"Yeah, we could do that," Clark said, nodding.

* * *

"_Wooooooo!_" Arthur screamed as he rode the waves, feeling like a king astride his horse, victorious in battle. He had spent a good hour surfing but he wasn't tired. He could never be tired. The water was his home. But it was time to get back to the others. He let himself crash onto the shore, got up, dusted himself and walked back to where his friends were. He stopped in his tracks when he heard people screaming. He heard someone screaming for help, another one for people to call 9-1-1. Another man instructed them to dig.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked a witness.

"They said two kids were digging a tunnel in the sand when a huge wave came crashing down. The walls of the tunnel collapsed from the impact of the wave. The other kid got out just in time, the other one's still in there, buried in sand."

"Thank you," he said, turning to look for the others. Just as he was about to go, he felt a strong gust of wind sweep past him, followed by another. Looking up, he saw two people running toward him. One woman and one man. He recognized his friends. Diana in the lead, with Hal following close behind her.

"Diana! Hal!" he called out, pointing. "Over there!"

"Got it," Diana said, running in the direction Arthur had pointed.

He decided to head in the same direction as well, help out any way he could.

"Excuse me," Hal said, parting the gathered crowd with his hands. "'Scuse me! Let me through."

Hal and Diana quickly made their way through the crowd, between people, until they reached the accident site. Clark and Barry were already there, digging as fast as they could, their hands nothing but a blur as they dug their way through the heavy wet sand.

"Dig, Clark!" Barry encouraged. "Hurry!"

* * *

As Bruce sat on the roof of Felton Hall, brooding like a nocturnal metropolitan vigilante, he thought. Thought of how he could avenge the wrong done to the late professor. He took it upon himself to administer justice. Nobody messes with Siegel University and gets away with it. He would find him, whoever it was that did this. He imagined himself Siegel University's very own Inspector Javert. His Jean Valjean was out there somewhere. And he swore he would get him.

He jumped down onto the pathway like a vampire falling on his prey, his black trench coat billowing behind him. He descended the steps that led down to the bottom of the hill on which Hereford and Felton Hall stood.

"I heard he was a good man," Bruce said, looking up at the imposing statue. "They said he was also that, besides being a good professor."

"So I heard," Jim Gordon said. "Lots of kids looked up to him and asked him for advice—things outside class, that kind of thing."

"Whatever I can do to help," Bruce said. "I'll do it."

"Thanks—" Gordon said, trying to remember Bruce's name.

"Wayne. Bruce Wayne."

"Thanks, Bruce. But we don't need a vigilante working with campus security."

"I'll be around if you change your mind."

"I'll let you—" Gordon said, turning around to answer him, but Bruce was gone. "Know. When. We need. Your help."

* * *

Even with Clark and Barry's combined speed, they couldn't get the young man out fast enough. Wet sand, as we know, is hard to dig through. And the tunnel that the unfortunate victim and his friend had dug was eight to ten feet deep. There was no way they could get him out in time.

Hal stood there like an idiot, arguing with himself if he should help and risk revealing his identity as a member of the Lantern Society (or the Lantern Corps, as it was sometimes called). It was one of the club's rules.

"I got it," he said, almost out loud. He ran back to their spot and grabbed a Swiss Army knife from his bag, cutting holes into a green bandana he had. Tying it securely around his head, he got up and ran back to the accident site. Perfect. Now he had a mask. Time for action.

A green beam shot from his ring, forming into a luminous, transparent shovel.

"Dig!" Barry shouted.

"Hera, save him," Diana breathed a prayer. Then she got down on her knees and started digging.

* * *

Bruce opened his desk drawer, sifting through a pile of coins. Before he can do any vigilante stuff, he had to wash his clothes. And study. He couldn't let his grades slip because of his other activities. There had to be a good balance of both. He wished he didn't have to do this. Back home, Alfred did the laundry for him.

_Not here, Bruce_, he thought to himself.

Picking up his laundry basket, he left the homey confines of Room 204 and made his way down the corridor of Felton Hall. Turning left, he saw the open door to the laundry room. It was always open. Residents could come in and out anytime of the day or night to do the laundry. There were no restrictions on when students could do their laundry. Some, Bruce had heard, do theirs at 4:30 in the morning.

Setting his laundry basket down, he proceeded to load his clothes into the machine. Then he went to the corner of the room where they had the detergents and fabric softeners. Then that's when he saw it. It was a door barricaded with old carton boxes, hampers, and other things to keep anyone out. A sign on the door read, _DO NOT OPEN__! This is where we keep the bodies. =)_

"That's weird," Bruce thought. "I've never seen this before."

_Curiosity killed the cat, Bruce_, he reminded himself. Then, he thought, _Eh. What the hell? No harm in trying._

One by one, he moved the boxes that barricaded the door. He was curious to know what was behind it or where it would lead. It took him a good ten minutes to get all those things out of the way.

"Here goes nothing," he said, holding his breath as he turned the knob and pulled the door open. He was surprised to find a flight of stairs leading down into the dark. He ran back to his room and grabbed a flashlight, then he descended down the steps. It was a provision for a basement that was never finished. Instead of finding walls and a concrete floor, however, Bruce found, to his amazement, nothing but dirt and rock walls—natural rock walls. This was a cave. He shined his flashlight around the place. Big mistake. A hundred startled bats swooped down, screeching.

"I hate bats," he mumbled.

* * *

By now, sirens could be heard blaring through the streets of Boston. Paramedics were on their way.

"Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!" Hal encouraged, digging furiously.

Encouraged by their enthusiasm, people soon began helping as well.

"Hera, save him," Diana said, repeating her request.

"Almost there!" one of the diggers said.

"Hurry!" Barry said.

"Got it!" Clark said. "I can see his hair!"

A little more digging and his whole head appeared. Then his neck. Then his shoulders. His arms. Seeing the opportunity, Clark put his hands under the young man's armpits and heaved, extracting him from the confining sand around him. Diana helped him, pulling with all her might.

"Is he dead?" a woman said.

"Oh, God, please let him be alive," another one said.

"Check for a pulse!" a man shouted.

Hal checked.

"I feel something!" he said. "But it's too damn weak!"

"Somebody perform CPR," a digger said.

"Shouldn't we wait for the paramedics?" Clark said.

"There's no time! We could lose him."

"I can perform CPR!" a woman from the crowd volunteered, raising her hand.

"Go!"

But she didn't have to perform CPR for long. The paramedics had arrived, red lights flashing. EMTs rushed to the scene of the accident. After checking for a pulse, they lifted the young man onto the gurney and placed an oxygen mask on his face.

"Please let him live," Diana prayed once more.

"I hope he's okay," Barry said. "I hope he survives."

Clark nodded.

"I know that kid," Hal said. "His name's Paul Kang. Studies at Siegel University."

* * *

Siegel University...

There was a knock at the door and Bruce quickly dusted himself. No one would suspect a thing. Nobody would know he had been down in the cave below Felton Hall.

"Come in!" Bruce called out.

The door opened to reveal Chuck McHaddad, the resident assistant for Felton Hall's lower east wing.

"Hey, Chuck," Bruce greeted.

"Bruce," he greeted back. "Have you...seen your roommate anywhere?"

"No, no, I haven't seen him," Bruce said. "We, uh... We had a spat."

"I see. Well, if you see him, tell him there's a meeting in Fanning Hall lounge. We all need to be there. Fanning Hall girls and Felton Hall guys."

"Got it," Bruce said. "I'll be sure to let him know."

"See you in ten minutes," Chuck said.

"Alright," Bruce said, reclosing the door.

Grabbing his iPhone from his desk, he quickly tapped out a text message to Clark: _Urgent! Chuck wants us to meet in Fanning Hall in 10 minutes._

He didn't have to wait long for the reply.

_On my way there right now. See you in 10._

_Roger_, Bruce typed. Send.

Clark had no idea what this meeting was all about. Nevertheless, he went. It was urgent. And, something told him, mandatory.

_Let me just go grab my stuff from Hal and Barry's room_, Clark texted.

_No need_, Bruce texted back. _I got your stuff. Welcome back to our Baker Street rooms, Watson._

Clark had to smile at that.

_Alright. See you in Fanning Hall lounge. Over and out._

Clark walked to Fanning Hall. By now, he knew his way around campus. No need to consult a map. On his way to Fanning Hall, he noticed Professor Felton's statue. Groundskeepers were busy cleaning it, but purple and green paint was still visible from the shoulders down. They had managed to get paint off its face and hair.

"Weird," he thought out loud. Then he noticed the steps. He shook his head. Crazy kids.

"Hey, Clark!" Karen greeted, catching up to Clark.

"Hey, Karen," Clark greeted with a smile. "Where are you headed?"

"I'm on my way back Fanning Hall," Karen said. "Mandatory meeting."

"That's where I'm going, too."

"Really? Wait... You're in Felton Hall?"

"Uh-huh," Clark said, nodding.

"For some reason, I thought you and Bruce were in Dunster Hall."

"Funny you should say that," Clark said. "A lot of people _have_ asked me if I was from Dunster Hall."

"Well, _it is_ the 'Ravenclaw' of Siegel University," Karen said. "And _you are_ a Ravenclaw kinda guy."

"You think so?" Clark said. "I've always seen myself as a Hufflepuff."

"Nah," Karen said. "You're definitely a Ravenclaw, Clark."

"Actually," Bruce butted in, "you're wrong. He's a Gryffindor at heart."

Clark smiled.

"Bruce," Clark said, stopping to offer him his hand.

"Clark," Bruce said, taking it and clasping Clark's arm in their usual Roman handshake. "Let's go in."

The room was quiet, some eyes on the floor. Some had their eyes on the ceiling. Others looked straight ahead with a blank expression on their faces. It gave the usually lively lounge a deathly air. It felt as though the three had just stepped into a chapel with a wake or funeral going on. Clark took a seat on the floor, while Bruce opted to stand outside by the door. Karen sat on an available chair beside Diana.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

"A Siegel University student was buried in sand this afternoon," Diana said.

Kean Rush, Felton Hall's resident director cleared his throat and began the announcement.

"There... Ehrm," he said, clearing his throat again. "A tragic event happened at the beach this afternoon."

Clark looked down as Kean explained what had happened. He was there. He felt as though he could have prevented it. He knew he couldn't. Why was he feeling this way?

After telling the gathered students what had happened in full detail, Kean told them that they were now going to pray. To pray for Paul's safety and quick recovery. And so they did. Some silently, some out loud.

While the others prayed to the Christian God, Diana prayed to the ancient deities of the Greeks.

After awhile, Kean announced that they were to return to their respective dorms and assemble by wing, where they would continue to pray for the unfortunate student.

* * *

Clark stood at the sink in Felton Hall's communal bathroom, washing his face. Tear-stained face. He straightened up and stared into the mirror. He gripped the sink tight, its marble surface beginning to crack. He removed his right hand from the sink, and with a clenched fist, shattered the huge bathroom mirror, shards flying in every direction from the impact of his fist. He hated seeing those guilt-stricken eyes accusing him of not saving Paul.

At 9:30, the announcement came. All students were to gather at the Siegel Center—the gymnasium. This was something big. No one was sure yet what it was, but Clark assumed the worst. He hurried there with Bruce, along with dozens of other students. A girl from Ballard Hall came down the stairs, crying. Clark knew, at that moment, something was wrong.

The mood was somber—like a funeral procession.

Students filed into the gymnasium. The right side had already been prepared for their use. They made their way up the steps, finding a spot on the bleachers. On the court was a grand piano; Siegel University's very own Dr. Schmidt, head of the university's music department, was at it. Dr. Schmidt played a few hymns, with the students singing. Then they were instructed to pray, either in groups, or individually. Then Siegel University's president, Dr. Kane Marston, spoke.

"Last Saturday, you were on the other side," he began. "Bleachers filled with cheering students. The coach from our rival school said he'd never experienced anything like it before. And now, a week later, you're all here on the other side. Mourning. I'd like to think Paul would've wanted you to celebrate with as much enthusiasm and spirit you had during the volleyball game. He's in a better place now than we are."

John looked over in surprise as Clark got up.

"Excuse me," Clark whispered, making his way down the steps.

Barry tapped Hal on the shoulder and pointed with his lips.

"Where's he going?" Oliver asked.

"I have no idea," Hal said. "I think he took the accident real hard. Just give him some space."

Seconds later, an angry cry pierced the night air, then shaking of the ground, as though there were an earthquake.

"Everyone, keep calm," Bruce said, standing. "I've got this."

Bruce walked down the steps and out of the gym.

"Clark?" he called for his friend. "Clark! Where are you?"

He found Clark in front of Rutherford Field, the poor fellow's chest heaving, sobs racking his body. He had felled a good number of trees.

"There was no way you could have known, Clark," Bruce said, placing a hand on his sorrowing friend's shoulder. "You can't save everyone."

Clark nodded slowly.

"Come on," Bruce said. "Let's go back up to the dorms and get you home."

At the same time they headed back to the dorms, the students filed out of Siegel Center. A lot of them were sobbing.

Clark shivered and pulled his jacket closer around himself. Then he looked up, the glint of a teardrop on his lashes.

"Amazing grace," he began with a trembling voice. "How sweet the sound..."

"That saved a wretch like me," Oliver continued.

"I once was lost but now am found," Hal sang. "Was blind but now I see."

Pretty soon, the whole school was singing Amazing Grace as they made their way to their respective dormitories.

"'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear," came a beautiful tenor voice with a hint of an Irish accent. "And grace my fears relieved..."

"How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed," Bruce sang.

When the song died down, all was quiet, subdued. People walked shuffling their feet, hands in their pockets, head bowed.

Bruce opened the door to Room 204 with his key and Clark plopped down on his bed, his back against the wall, his head leaning back. He sighed.

"Why couldn't I save him, Bruce?" he asked.

"Everyone is allotted their time to die, Clark," Bruce answered, sighing. "And when it's your time, it's your time. Nobody can do a thing about it. Nobody."

_What if somebody could?_ Clark thought to himself.


End file.
